Quote:
Originally Posted by zelda_pinwheel
i can't help it, it's like a drug. i finished dead pigeons last night and it was brilliant (did i mention *that* ? really, i loved it. worthy of hammett.), and i didn't want to leave that universe, so i'm just biding my time for more moejoe...
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Here's a little sneaky peak of Beneath a Bloodshot Moon then (I'm hoping Friday night release, but I've got to say it could be next week depending).
Quote:
"Admiring the artwork are we, Mr. Finch?"
I shifted my gaze from the painting to the man and back again. My eyebrows wrinkled with confusion.
Steinbeck cocked his head in puzzlement as he looked at the picture. He didn't have eyebrows to wrinkle.
The man in the painting was at least six feet with a grease slick of dark black hair. He was slim with a jutting jaw and a perfect nose.
Krain was none of those things. Not even close.
I wanted to laugh. All the stories I'd heard, all the lead-up and he turned out to be a tubby little man with a cat cradled in his arms.
Cute.
Steinbeck didn't think any of this was cute. As soon as he saw that cat, he took his fighting stance. Hair raised along the scruff of his neck, teeth bared.
"Your animal, Mr. Finch, is disturbing Murak," he said and as slow as you like, stroked the hairless Siamese the wrong way.
The skin bunched up like the wrinkles in an unmade bed.
I winced.
"You called your cat, Murak?"
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